


The Offer

by HannahLydia



Series: OC Content [1]
Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, Hyperion, Implied Rival CEOs, October Prompt Challenge, Original Character(s), implied Rhack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:41:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26688340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HannahLydia/pseuds/HannahLydia
Summary: When Iris is called to the penthouse suite of an esteemed Hyperion board member, she has no idea what to expect. Faced with a gouging offer that could cost her everything she holds dear, Iris has to make a choice. Do what she was born to do? Or take the path she's chosen for herself?Day 1: 'Birthright' prompt for OCtober 2020.
Series: OC Content [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1942084
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	The Offer

**Author's Note:**

> Something slightly different from me! Rather than participate in Kinktober this year I wanted to challenge myself and work on some pieces that were predominantly SFW. I've also wanted to write some short fics based around the Borderlands OCs I share with my friend for the _longest_ time, and figured that OCtober was the best place to start! Sorry for those of you expecting some more Rhack from me, I promise that that's coming. In the meantime here's an introduction to my OC, [Iris](https://docs.google.com/presentation/d/1CUK9lxe3aYjJoBo5EsKaeYT-1wh3di79YFGIaxiEnGo/edit?usp=sharing).
> 
> Borderlands and all it's associated lore and characters © Gearbox and 2K.  
> Iris belongs to [myself](https://twitter.com/hannahdewitt77) and [Icarus](https://twitter.com/IcarusPrince) / [TeaBeast](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaBeast/pseuds/TeaBeast).

Iris never had what it took to be CEO. She was far from career-driven, ruthless or ambitious; amounting to no more than a regular girl, with irregular privileges, shouldering monumental expectations. The board could see that, irregardless as to how many shares Jack had in his grip or how often he tried to blackmail them to overlook the painful truth. He should have seen it coming - should have recognised the lack of potential in his own flesh and blood - but he was too arrogant to consider that his long-term investment had failed.

“-- and that’s _precisely_ why I’ve called you here,” Dreyfus said in a sardonic tone, stirring her tea. The board-member hadn’t once freed Iris from her gaze, now tilting her chin in a holier-than-thou manner as she regarded her with indifference. Dreyfus’ posture was impeccable, sitting in her armchair as if it were a throne, and it was with considered poise that she then reached down to stroke the smug, white Persian brushing against her ankle. Seemingly in tune with Dreyfus’ opinion, the cat shot Iris a scathing look before stretching at its mistress' feet.

Iris tried her hardest not to sink back into her own chair, not wanting to show any signs of weakness that fed into Dreyfus’ already cutting observation. Her lip was twitching, and it took all of her focus to maintain an act of stoicism. Hyperion executives were like piranhas - reveal the slightest injury to them and they’d work themselves into a murderous frenzy. No, Iris wasn’t about to show the board-member just how deeply she had wounded her. Aside from the fact that Dreyfus’ critique had just dissected her character and threatened her would-be livelihood, Iris had latched onto one thing and one thing only in amongst her gouging statement. _Long-term investment._ Cold and impersonal, as if Jack was her project manager more so than her father.

“Now…” Dreyfus exhaled, her spoon tapping on the rim of her teacup. “In spite of Jack’s _impeccable_ track record, he would have us all overlook your inexperience, your-- utter lack of qualifications and - how do you say? - a decided absence of that _je ne sais quoi_? All to keep his crowning achievement within the family. The whole idea is _absurd_ given-- well-- the truth of the matter is, my girl, you’re barely fit for a middle manager position,” 

“... Noted,” Iris replied, her voice unsteady despite her best efforts. She kept her hands folded in her lap, fingers locked together so tightly that her nails were digging into the inside of her knuckles. What she’d _wanted_ to say was that her father hadn’t had experience or qualifications either, as far as she understood it. He’d been nothing more than a code monkey with delusions of grandeur. Unfortunately for Iris, she withered at the thought of confrontation, especially when it came to someone as executive as a Hyperion shareholder.  
While Dreyfus resumed sipping her tea, Iris risked averting her eyes. There wasn’t much to hold her attention in the hotel suite itself. The atmosphere in the room was about as oppressive as their conversation, in spite of its elegance. Dreyfus was being put up, all expenses paid, in the penthouse of Opportunity’s tallest, most luxurious hotel. This didn’t stop her acting like she owned the place, although according to the Hyperion food chain this wasn’t wide of the mark. It was noon, and yet all natural light had been snuffed out. They should have had spectacular views of the rocky Highlands and the too-blue sky, but the butler had long since closed the shutters and turned on the gold-plated uplighters. He was standing to their side now, rigid as a waxwork in his crisp uniform with a cloth draped over his arm. Hyperion-yellow, of course.

Iris caught his eye, silently begging him to interrupt the newly awkward silence, and the butler acquiesced, acknowledging her with a slight bow.  
“A drink for you, Miss Iris?” He asked with deference.  
“Just a glass of drakefruit juice. Please,” Oh, how she hated the way her teeth chattered. Iris offered up a smile as he excused himself but it didn’t touch her eyes. Her gut was wrenching to the point of stomach cramps, and Dreyfus’ words haunted her, bullying her.  
_She’s right, you know? You **are** a failure. Papa knows it… maybe he always has. He’s just holding out hope you’ll pull a one-eighty._  
Pressing her hand to her stomach, Iris’ gaze dropped to the edge of the coffee table. At the peripheral of her vision she could see the teacup once again placed on the saucer, and hesitated to raise her eyes once more.

Dreyfus’ lips were pursed, examining her curiously. “My girl, I didn’t bring you here to insult you,” She said, and while her tone was softer than before, she wasn’t quite apologetic.  
_Could’ve fooled me_ , Iris thought. All the shareholder had done since she’d stepped through the door was pick her apart, without so much as giving her a reason for the nature of their meeting. Her freckles had been ‘unfortunate’, her haircut ‘unflattering’. Under her watchful eye, Iris felt like a bug in the wrong place at the wrong time, one that was either about to be crushed or reluctantly rescued. Even now, Dreyfus’ gaze was intense. Her eyes were pale and steely, set in a face that was petrified with botox save for the deep frown lines either side of her too-thin lips. She had all the countenance of both a firm governess and a queen, bolstered by her reputation as the richest woman in the galaxy. Perhaps she hadn’t _brought_ her here to insult her, but she’d certainly enjoyed doing it.  
Easing the pressure on her stomach, Iris managed a performative smile. “I’m not offended, Mrs Dreyfus,” She lied.

Almost choking on the remains of her tea, the older woman let out a sudden gasp of curt laughter, prompting her cat to hiss and dash off into the confines of the suite.  
“No?” She challenged, twisting the knife. “Then nothing I’ve said was unknown to you?”  
_Be. The. Bigger. Person._ Iris told herself, repeating the line over and over in her head until it became a mantra. Of course she knew her own failings, but to have them reiterated by someone who had the power to decide her future was nothing less than devastating.  
Raising her chin, Iris put on the bravest face she could muster. “I’m not my father,” She said finally.  
Dreyfus’ smile became predatory at that, flashing her too-white teeth. Unbeknownst to her, Iris had just summarised the exact source of the board’s frustrations. “My dear,” Dreyfus practically purred, beginning to lean forwards in her seat. “No truer words have ever been spoken,”

All pretense of keeping up appearances was forgotten. Iris’ jaw locked, her expression fracturing until her green eyes became large and watery. She wanted to leave. She didn’t want to sit here, in this chair, accepting the brunt of verbal barbs any longer. It was a small mercy when the butler returned with her glass of juice, placing a paper doily on the polished coffee table dividing them before resting the glass upon it. If he spoke, Iris didn’t hear him. If she dismissed him, it was brief. All she could do was stare helplessly at the board-member before her, hoping that she’d exhausted her quips for now.

After a moment’s silence, Dreyfus set about pouring herself another cup of tea. “I’m not an unreasonable woman, Iris,” She began to mediate, delicately tipping the teapot. “Your father _knows_ how the line of succession works, despite his--- brazen disregard of it. If he were to retire or if he were to be toppled, a new president would be appointed by my fellow members of the board. That being said… despite your drawbacks, elevating you _would_ reap some benefits. After all, your promotion would enable us to fully coalesce with the Atlas corporation, provided Rhys cedes his chair to you,”

“It’s… been discussed,” Iris replied cautiously, reaching for her glass if only to have something to do with her hands. The shift in atmosphere was somehow palpable. Iris now felt as if she were teetering on a scale, waiting for everything to balance out. Had she answered correctly, given that she hadn’t confirmed or denied? It seemed that Dreyfus was appeased, as she gave her an astute nod.  
“You’re also young, attractive, and not _entirely_ useless based on your work at Prosperity Junction. Most importantly, you’re malleable. I’d wager you’re likely to upset the current status quo by choosing to run Hyperion differently to your father. His coup, though gainful, ousted many members of the board, and I speak for all of us when I say we would appreciate a more-- _democratic_ approach,”  
Although Dreyfus had steered the conversation into more positive territory, Iris couldn’t help but be suspicious. The pinched look on the older woman’s face spoke volumes, indicating that her words were measured and logical but lacking in enthusiasm, needing to remind _herself_ of the gains as well as Iris.  
_So-- what is she talking herself into?_ She wondered, scanning Dreyfus’ body language for any possible tells. An about-turn from outright insults to reluctantly-given compliments was nevertheless enough to render her speechless and so Iris stared at the board-member with parted lips, answering her only with polite nods or otherwise quietly sipping her juice.

Exhausted all of a sudden, as if cresting the peak of whatever point she was making, Dreyfus sighed, hands cupping the warmth of her teacup. “Given that we stand to gain _some_ measure of control from your appointment, the board has decided that you may be worth the insurmountable risk. To that end, I have invited you here to make you an offer,”  
_Oh_. Curiosity piqued, Iris adjusted her posture. Was it possible to feel flattered in spite of the backhanded compliments and lack of faith? Absurdly enough, yes, it was. Repressing a surge of nauseous excitement, Iris kept her face impassively smooth.  
If the board were so focused on regaining control, then perhaps they were offering her the opportunity to function as CEO in name rather than practise? Her father lorded over Hyperion with an iron fist, but she would much, _much_ rather the onus was not so heavily on her shoulders. Either way, an offer was an offer - a chance to make her father proud.

“An... offer, Mrs Dreyfus?” Iris prompted, truly warm for the first time since she’d arrived. The warmth did nothing to thaw the shareholder. Sighing again, Dreyfus began to stir her tea.  
“Prior to the offer, and in a bid to prepare you for corporate life, I would be willing to grant you a bursary to study at my school of business. Naturally I will send a tutor, provided you can assure his safety on this wretched planet,”  
_A tutor?_ Iris thought, not without some degree of exasperation. Granted, no one said the CEO life was all fun and games. Not everyone had a flair for business right off the bat like her father did, especially to his degree, but she was the daughter of two prolific corporate executives. Surely she’d had all the training she needed? Knowing that it wouldn’t do to look ungrateful, however, she injected as much enthusiasm as possible into her nods that followed.  
“Oh, absolutely! All safety is assured within Opportunity, Mrs Dreyfus. My father wouldn’t have it any other way,” Had that come across too sycophantic? The share-holder had pursed her lips, so Iris considered she might have gone a little overboard. Even her own facial muscles were aching from the intensity of her people-pleasing smile.

Curling her lip, Dreyfus set her spoon down with a short, almost irritated breath. “Yes, well... good. As for the meat of the matter - myself, and my fellow members of the board, _will_ back your promotion to CEO in the event of your father’s retirement on the following conditions,”  
Iris sucked in a breath, and subtly moved to pinch herself. This was really happening. All those years of anxiety, knowing that she’d eventually face the wrath of her father’s frustration when she didn’t rise to the occasion… soon it would all be over. The relief was so tangible that it was as if she’d just been injected with dopamine. Cautious of the fine line between gratitude and smugness, Iris tried her best to keep her smile in check. Luckily for her, it was about to be wiped entirely off of her face.

After Mrs Dreyfus had sipped her tea as if needing liquid courage, she reached down into a briefcase at her feet and pulled out some paperwork. She placed it on the table between them, negating to disclose its purpose, but it didn’t matter given that Iris recognised it immediately - a chart from the last AGM. It headed up a detailed report on projects deemed ‘money pits’, with the vast majority in the red.  
“Do you recognise this document?” Dreyfus asked.  
“Yes, ma’am,"  
“Wonderful, then it illustrates my point perfectly,” Tapping one of the columns that was steeply below the line, the older woman cleared her throat. “Iris, we would require you to cease investing company expenses and assets in personal commissions. Notwithstanding the scientific breakthroughs these commissions have generated, we cannot sustain Operation Phoenix any longer,”

 _Operation Phoe---?_ Almost outright dropping her glass, Iris notably paled. Bile rose to the back of her throat and it took her a moment to re-process Dreyfus’ words. Surely she hadn’t heard her right? The words on the document briefly swam when Iris looked down, only to see that the board-member was, indeed, pointing to “Confidential Personal Research”.  
“O-Operation Phoenix?” She repeated dumbly, squeezing her glass so hard that her knuckles turned white. Alarm bells were going off in her mind, followed swiftly by flashes of the project’s host lab - clinically white save for the large, central cryo chamber flooded with violet fluid.  
“I--” Iris false-started, nauseous. “I-- can’t agree to that, ma’am. Axing that project is out of the question,”

“Oh, not yet, you can’t,” The reluctance was gone from Dreyfus’ face, replaced instead by a twisted satisfaction that angled her eyebrows and turned her grimace into a smirk. “Given that the fate of Hyperion is likely to be _uncertain_ in your hands, the board would feel a collective relief in the absence of unprofitable investments,”  
And that all made sense. Really. It did. But--  
Iris’ tongue felt swollen, a blockade that she had to work around. “I-It’s just… you’re talking about the fate of my _sister_ ,”  
“I’m talking about wasted expenditure and resources. If your family wishes to continue fruitlessly chasing a lost cause, you should do so using your personal finances,”

Balking at the ‘lost cause’ comment, Iris’ breath hitched. While they had personal finances a-plenty, it was access to Hyperion’s R&D that would make-or-break this literal operation. To disconnect Angel from the host lab and move her elsewhere would be utterly irreversible. Kneading her temple with one hand, Iris couldn’t shake the feeling that if her father were in the room right now, he would be threatening Dreyfus at the very _least_. There was no way he’d agree to give Angel up, even if the project had been plateauing for over two decades.  
Grimly realising that her hand was shaking, Iris fixed her gaze on Dreyfus’ teacup, needing a set point upon which to focus while she tried to make sense of her racing thoughts. It was a moment before she realised that the older woman was speaking again, and made pains to tune back in.  
“-- of course you will also have to give up ballet, at least until you have cemented your position at the helm of the company,” 

Tuning back out, Iris’ heart dropped into her stomach. It wasn’t comparable of course - her sister and her avocation - but she had never _met_ Angel. Ballet was her escape from her suffocating existence, and the one thing she was actually _good_ at.  
_And **that’s** your nail in the coffin? What, you’re saying you would’ve thrown Angel away for a **promotion**?_ Her inner voice chided, prompting her to press down on her stomach again to stop the sick feeling in her gut.  
_If someone else was appointed, the project would just be axed anyway_ , she rationalised, but it didn’t calm her unease. This offer was losing all colour and promise fast, and she had a feeling that the conditions were far from over.  
Moving to set her glass back down on the table, she misjudged the placement, causing the tumbler to tip and fall off the edge. It hit the floor with a heavy thud but didn’t break, rolling around instead at Iris’ feet. Flinching, she retrieved her glass before sinking back into her armchair, wishing it would swallow her whole.

Of course, none of this was compulsory. She could scoff at Dreyfus’ offer, get up, walk out and forget about a career that was far beyond her. Or at least, she _could_ do that if the alternative wasn’t so frightening to bear. Repressing a shiver, Iris recalled the first and last time she’d voiced concern about her future. Recalled how she never wanted to see that manic look in her father’s eyes again.

> _“Uh. Pumpkin? What’s that defeatist talk, huh? We’re a **team** , kiddo. You’re not-- thinkin’ about dragging down the team now, are you?”_

His words had been like a knife’s edge, loaded with a threat previously unknown to her. Now? Now Iris feared Jack’s disappointment beyond all reason.  
She wasn’t doing this for herself, that had become abundantly clear in recent years. Lying in bed awake at night, the million dollar question would present itself time and time again. _‘Do you even **want** to be CEO?’_ No. No, she did not.

“Iris? Are you still following me?”  
Sliding back to the present, Iris parroted back to her: “No personal projects. No ballet,”  
“And _no more Pandora_ ,” Dreyfus said with emphasis, trying to keep her wandering mind engaged. “At least as a place of residence once you’re in power. Eos is suitable as a base of operations, but Opportunity is a mere forcefield away from ruin. Need I remind you that this city was levelled once before,”

She was pushing all of her buttons. While many wouldn’t see the severity of that last condition, it prompted Iris’ gears to turn harder, faster. Pandora might have been a ticking time-bomb but it was also her _home_. Opportunity was all she had ever known, and while it might be possible to start over on Promethea, there was so much she would need to take with her to forge an existence there. It might be possible to persuade Ash to shake the dust of Hollow Point, but getting Archer to forgo his current way of life would be like pulling a skag’s teeth. Finding herself on the verge of hyperventilating, Iris was pinned by her father’s expectations and the memory of that hard, dangerous look in his eyes.

“Before I was born,” She insisted, barely cognisant of what she was saying as she continued to knead her temple. “T-The city was levelled _long_ before I was born, ma’am. I mean, the forcefield’s impenetrable now-- the vault hunters shipped out decades ago-- there’s no need to _move_ ,”  
“No? And what happens when they come back?” Dreyfus pressed, sliding the report off of the table and back into her briefcase. “My dear, it will take _decades_ to gentrify this backwards planet. You reside mere kilometres away from cannibals and inbreds, the _least_ you could do is see my point of view.”

“I can see your point of _view_ , Mrs Dreyfus,” Iris replied, unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice. Pandora’s population wasn’t entirely made up of bandits. There were pockets of _good_ people, people like Sooey, Sasha, Ash and May. Pockets of rough diamonds, like Archer. People that Iris _loved_. Loved enough that her nostrils flared and her fingers clenched. “While Pandora may not be to everyone’s taste, I don’t see why this is necessary,”  
“ _Necessary_?” Dreyfus repeated, just as patches of her face flushed a spectacular shade of red. She slowly began to lean back into her armchair, steepling her fingers beneath her chin. “Diego Ortega has been Chief Operations Officer for seven years,” She said patiently, though not without open admiration for the subject matter. “He runs a tight ship, perhaps even tighter than your father, and has long been earmarked for the position of CEO. Your promotion would rob him of a role he has spent his entire _career_ striving for, a role _worthy_ of him,” Hissing now, and fixing Iris with a resentful scowl, Dreyfus pounded her armrest with her fist. “You do _not_ get to tell me what is necessary,”

Jumping at the sudden outburst, Iris lost the indignant expression that had begun to form on her face. Staring back at the board-member, her shoulders began to sag in defeat just as her eyes became red and pinched. There was no room to negotiate here. This would be queue-jumping of the highest order, and she didn’t have a single card on the table with which to barter.  
Having seen the effect she’d had on her, Mrs Dreyfus relaxed somewhat, temporarily setting her resentment aside. Tucking a strand of greying hair back behind her ear before brushing down her velvet trousers, it was clear she was steadying herself for her next point. “We’re asking you to make sacrifices, Iris, just as we would be in order to appoint you,”

“I understand, ma’am,” Iris replied submissively, lowering her eyes. Her words sounded about as hollow as she felt. “Thank you. For-- giving me the opportunity,”  
A moment’s hesitation. At first it seemed they had reached an impasse, with Dreyfus having picked up on the misery in Iris’ voice. Rather than address it, however, she paused a moment longer before deciding to press on. “There’s one final condition,” She announced without fanfare, as if finally taking pity on her. It was with grave brevity that she continued, an impassive look on her face. “You see… the board would like to see you partnered with an executive. A co-CEO, if you will,”  
_A co-CEO?_ That was a condition that didn’t sound so bad. Iris knew better than to be lured into a false sense of security, however, given today’s precedent. Not daring to hope, she met Dreyfus’ eyes and tipped her head as if willing to listen.

“It comes at great personal cost to me,” Dreyfus continued, taking a steadying breath. “But-- no matter. Iris, in order to secure the role, you would need to marry my son, Bryce,”  
_Oh. Oh-- **no**._  
The alarm bells that had previously been going off in Iris’ mind were no longer just ringing, they were screaming. In that moment, she was keenly aware that her mouth had fallen open, her hand was squeezing the armrest painfully tight and her blood was roaring in her ears. Dumbfounded, she stared at the board-member as if she had just grown a second head and had begun to spit acid out of it. “Your… son?” She spluttered, incredulous.  
“Bryce. Head of Retail,” Dreyfus half-prompted, half-confirmed. “Despite my reservations about you, I believe you two would make an adequate couple. That is to say, he’s rather taken a shine to you. Of course, Bryce has been a leading executive in this company for the past ten years, and has helped your father negotiate _many_ lucrative trade deals. As your husband he would be able to steer your hand and act as your advisor,”

Not that it mattered, given how visceral her reaction was, but Iris remembered him. Tall, wide-set shoulders, thinning brown hair. Ten years her senior, not unattractive, but with all the airs of someone who lived to work and worked to live. About as interesting as watching paint dry, despite the fact she distinctly remembered blushing during a conference last year when he asked for her opinion. All of which was second fiddle to the fact that she was already very much in love with someone else.

Iris’ hands desperately locked together as if in prayer. “Mrs Dreyfus, I’m flattered. Really. But I’m--”  
“Knocking bed posts with a pillager,” The share-holder interrupted coldly, wrinkling her nose at her own vulgarity. “Or is it the son of the racketeer? Truth be told, your romantic flights of fancy are _exhausting_ to keep up with,”  
“Mrs Dreyfus, I--”  
“I’m sure you’re aware that neither of them are choice suitors for a young woman in your position. Frankly, it’s a matter of scandal amongst the board,”

Of all the things to send her over the edge, the fact that her private life was a matter of public examination was the last straw. Seeing red, Iris leapt to her feet in both frustration and disbelief. Adrenaline overruled her fear of conflict. Her face was flushed with embarrassment but it was anger that drove her, unable to comprehend that she was the subject of gossip in the board’s world of power and profit. “ _Scandal!?_ I really, _really_ don’t see how my personal life--”  
“You are under intense scrutiny, Iris,” Dreyfus cut her off, raising her voice over hers. She was fixing her with a glare of animosity, and while she didn’t stand to meet her or indicate for Iris to take her seat once more, there was an unspoken command that she should do so. “You’re Hyperion property, _everything_ you do is a matter of interest,”

“I’m no one’s property,” Iris objected, although much weaker this time. There was an uncertainty to her words, doubting her own conviction, if only because she didn’t need Dreyfus to divulge how her conception was yet another profitless project they wished they could have axed. The cock to the board-member’s eyebrow suggested she was about to do just that and so Iris slowly sat back down, weaving her fingers through her hair.

“... You’re asking for too much,” She whispered strenuously, and closed her eyes. Everything she stood to lose was waiting behind her eyelids, acted out in excruciating detail.  
Pulling Angel’s life support. One last night with the men she loved more than sense. Boarding a shuttle to Promethea with _Bryce_.  
It wasn’t worth it, not for something she didn’t even want, and yet… _… this is what you were born for. Literally. How do you think Papa would react if he found out you had the chance to be CEO and you squandered it? You think he would ever let you see Ash or Archer again? You think he would ever let you see the light of **day** again?_  
She didn’t know, but if she was considering rejecting this offer then she needed a backup plan.

Rising from her chair, Dreyfus loomed over her with all the grace of a spider hovering over its prey. “Might I suggest that it’s your father that’s asking too much?” She said, seemingly amused by Iris’ torment. Patting her calf, the Persian returned to Dreyfus’ side only to leap into her waiting arms, taking up home there after a few scritches to its head. “I’m in town for a week, Iris; I shall give you until then to decide. Naturally I will deny this conversation happened should you discuss it with your fathers,”  
“I’ll be discrete,” Iris replied quietly, easing her fingers from her hair as she stared into the middle distance. It was then that the butler reappeared, motioning Dreyfus towards an adjoining room which he had just prepared. For a moment Iris half-imagined she was being invited for a sit-down meal with the board-member, but soon noticed the casual dining table was laid out with just one place setting. _Thank god._ She didn’t think she could suffer another minute in this suite alone with her.

Having acknowledged and thanked the butler for his timely arrival, Dreyfus turned back to face Iris, an almost self-congratulatory smile on her face. “I’m due to have lunch, my dear, I trust you can see yourself out?”  
“Yes, ma’am,”  
“Splendid,” She was already on her way to the connecting room, stroking her cat once more before letting it back down onto the floor. “A pleasure to see you, dear,” Dreyfus bluffed for decorum’s sake. Against her better judgement, Iris found herself repeating the sentiment.  
“The pleasure was all mine,” She echoed emptily, beginning to ease herself up out of her chair. Her heart was drumming so hard that it throbbed in her ears, and as she headed for the door it was only on an after thought that she remembered to retrieve her cardigan from the coat stand.

No sooner had she placed her hand on the door knob than a shrewd voice echoed from the dining room, determined to have the last word. “Do consider my offer, Iris,” Dreyfus called after her, tone dripping with false sweetness. “Need I remind you that it is the _only_ one you will have,”  
Iris hadn’t needed the reminder. Painfully aware of the threat of oncoming tears, she knew better than to answer her. Without another word, the young heiress opened the door and left.


End file.
